


The Caryatid

by maypop



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maypop/pseuds/maypop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or, Thinly Disguised Issuefic About How Everyone Does Femdom Wrong Except Me. Involving forced masculinization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Caryatid

“Hmm,” Terezi says, and you shudder. “You did very well!”

You don’t relax. You know that tone. “—But.”

Of course.

“But! You are not dressed appropriately. You are pretending to a stature to which you are not entitled, and I am offended by being asked to partake in this presumption.”

You drop your eyes to the ground, working your sore jaw around silently. Terezi, still slightly breathless from your efforts, takes your hand off her hip and pulls the rings off your sweaty fingers, one by one. Her hands are gentle.

She takes off your rings, and the ribbon you’ve carefully twined through your hair, and helps you to your feet to finish removing your dress, making soft disapproving noises all the while.

When you are quite naked she leaves you, pads off to the ablution block and returns with a damp cloth. “Makeup off!”

You hesitate. Terezi sighs. “That’s one. Let’s not make it two, please.”

You scrub it off, rasping your skin painfully. This is not how you’re meant to remove makeup. Your face feels raw in patches afterwards.

“That’s better,” she says, patting your face. “Good boy.” You flinch, and her pat turns to a vise grip on your chin. “Come on, Kanaya. You know you’re not the same thing as a mother grub attendant, or an heiress, or an empress! Just another… little… boy.”

“I am not,” you say, unwisely, and she slaps you.

“That’s two! Go to my ablution block. Bring me the mint jar and the blackberry.”

On shaking legs, you go. The jars aren’t labelled, and your discreet sniffs at the seals don’t yield anything you recognize. When Terezi cracks the lid on the little purple-black pot, the scent it lets out makes your eyes water.

“I was hoping not to have to use these,” she lies, and takes a scoop of some white gel with two fingers, and dabs it on your neglected nook.

“No more self control than any boy,” she notes, when your hips jerk towards her touch. She coats you very thoroughly, and pats you once before going off to wash her hands.

It doesn’t feel like anything, at first. You can sit still while she takes the other pot—which turns out to be just pomade, thankfully not in Eridan’s scent—and uses it to slick your hair back. Her fingers on your scalp are cool, and it’s hard not to lean into them, even while she strips you of finery and pride.

“You’ll go numb,” she says, when the burning hits you and you hunch forward in her arms, choking. “—Eventually. Stand up straight, please!”

You straighten in tiny increments. Terezi finishes buttoning the shirt down your chest. Plain grey, and cut straight, as if to say someone like _you_ should not be drawing attention to themselves. You are shamefully glad of the boxers she puts you in—looser than real underwear, they hang away from your scalded-feeling nook.

The trousers are black, boxy, worktrolllike, and the shoes are dull. Nothing on you, when she pulls your over to the mirror, is nice. No jewelry, no lipstick, no shine, no grace, nothing that makes you want to lift your chin. (Though admittedly at the moment you just want to curl up around your throbbing nook.)

Terezi wraps her sharp body around you from behind, and digs her chin into your shoulder like a trowel. “Much better,” she says. “Wouldn’t want people to think you were something you are not! What do you say?”

“…thank you, ma’am.”

“Mmmhmm.” Her hand drifts lower, and presses, blessedly cool, against you. “You can get off, if you like,” she offers generously. “But! You cannot close your eyes.”


End file.
